


You Are My Sunshine

by twistedmiracle



Series: Folk Songs [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Family Picnic, Fourth of July, I invented a whole bunch of family members, M/M, Male Character of Color, MooMaw's POV, Original Character Death(s), seriously so many people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 19:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13981647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedmiracle/pseuds/twistedmiracle
Summary: I’ve been trying on and off to write a Check Please fanfic since I fell in love with this comic in January 2018. Finally, this came to me in the shower and I rushed through writing it in just a few hours. Frankly, I don’t know what took me so long to come up with writing from MooMaw’s pov. I love smart, funny old ladies. I love to put them in my fic and have them explain truths other people are too young and insecure and inexperienced to see. I love to have them be brave and mature enough to solve the problems other people can’t. Frankly, I am precariously close to becoming an old lady myself (though I am a lot closer in age to Suzanne and Richard than I am to MooMaw), and I hope I can be half as cool as some of the ones I’ve written.In this fic MooMaw meets Jack, gets a clue, and realizes she can help. But Eric can't quite hear her. Yet.Title taken from the wonderful old folk song. Here's Johnny Cash singing it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cGa3zFRqDn4* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *





	You Are My Sunshine

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Carol shuffled out of her little Ford, opened the back door and reached in for the jello salad she’d made the day before and chilled all night for the family picnic. Before she could even close the back door again, there was Eric, come to help.

“MooMaw!” he cried, and the joy she saw on his face in greeting her was still real. “Eric,” she said. Smiling, she reached up to squeeze his forearm. 

“Eric?” he asked. “Not Dicky?”

“I think now you’re a big college boy you’re old enough for your real name, don’t you?”

“I’ve been a big college boy for a while now, MooMaw,” he teased, carefully taking her jello salad and shutting her car door with his hip.

“Really?” she asked, uncertain. “Wasn’t this your first year?”

“Nope,” he said, as cheerful and sweet as he’d always been. Oh, how she loved this sunshine child. He opened the front door and made sure she was comfortably inside before shutting the door again. She sighed into the air conditioning. “Just finished my second year. I’m halfway through!”

“Halfway through with college,” Carol murmured. “Imagine that.” She’d lost track of time again. It went by faster every time she thought about it. She didn’t even want to think about how old Thomas must be, how long since her last visit to New York City. Travelling got harder every year. She should force herself back onto a plane before it stopped being a realistic option. She knew Thomas wasn’t coming back to Georgia for less than her funeral.

“Well,” she began again, looking up into Eric’s smiling face. “How are those grades? And you must have picked a major by now?”

“I’ll tell you all about it outside!” he chimed, putting her jello salad on the kitchen counter along with all the pies and summer salads he and his Mama had made. There wasn’t much else there yet, but she’d known from both the half-empty street, and the time, that she was on the early side for their family 4th of July. But she’d so wanted to see this boy. And it wasn’t like there was anything keeping her at home. 

“Come sit with me in the shade, Eric,” she said. She reached for his hand and he let her take it, easy as pie. Yes, he was growing up. Her friend Linda never stopped complaining about how distant all her teenage grandsons had become. Carol remembered how Thomas, then David, Judy for sure, and then eventually Richard, too, had refused all her affection for a few long, unhappy years. Richard was such a good boy, though. She’d been so happy when he’d moved his little family back to Madison.

Eric helped her to a comfortable chaise and brought her a large glass of sweet tea with ice, but didn’t sit down. 

“Your Mama can spare you for ten minutes, sunshine,” she said. “Sit and tell your MooMaw all about your first two years of college.”

Eric opened his mouth to obey, but a tall, handsome young man walked back into the yard from around the side of the house, and it was like a spotlight shone on him. Whoever he was, Eric had eyes for no one else.

The young man put down a stack of chairs and started to set them up, and Eric made a quick excuse and rushed over to help.

Carol watched them. Suzanne said hello, Richard came over to kiss her cheek and make sure she had enough to drink, but Carol released them quickly to watch Eric with his friend. She had a sudden, visceral memory of Thomas at that age, and sipped at her tea to calm her heart.

The boys set up the chairs together, then brought out a cooler full of Cokes and beer, then went back inside together for another moment, emerging this time with an enormous platter of uncooked meat which Eric brought to the grill for his father to cook. Eric looked a little flushed, but it was getting awfully hot out here.

“Go introduce Jack to your MooMaw,” she heard Richard boom at the boy, with a heavy, manly backslap; and the resultant look on Eric’s face was intriguing. He clearly meant to obey his father, though, so Carol put her drink on the little table next to her chaise and sat up a little taller as they walked over the grass to join her. She remembered to uncross her ankles so her knees wouldn’t ache later. She really needed to stop doing that.

“So this is Jack?” she asked as they came to stand near her chaise. There was only one chair close enough and Eric pushed Jack at it and went to get another.

“Yes Ma’am,” he said, and extended a hand. He had an accent she surely couldn’t have placed in a dozen years. 

“Where are you from, Jack?” she asked, fascinated. He shook her hand nice and firm, but not too tight. He was a nice boy. She could already tell. “How do you know my favorite grandson?”

“I’m your only grandson, MooMaw!” Eric laughed. He’d arrived with another chair and sat, rather close to Jack.

“Nonetheless, sunshine, nonetheless.” Carol smiled and reached over to squeeze his hand. Eric had never gotten too angry and difficult. Even at fifteen and sixteen he’d been willing to greet his grandmother with a hug and a kiss, but it was so wonderful when they got old enough to honestly appreciate her again. Two of her granddaughters were still teen enough to be a little snarly, and she looked forward to them maturing and enjoying her company.

“I’m from Montreal,” the handsome boy told her. "I was… Eric’s hockey captain last year.”

“And the year before that, too,” Eric said, beaming at his much taller friend. “Jack was the best captain, MooMaw. I couldn’t have done it without him.”

“But you don’t usually call him Eric, do you?” she asked, and saw the surprise on his face. Why did young'uns never expect the elderly to be observant and have learned from experience? “I heard that hesitation before you called him Eric,” she explained, smiling generously. Whoever he was, Eric’s sun rose and set on him, and she wanted him to feel welcome today. 

“Euh, yes,” he said, and he looked down, then looked at Eric. “I usually call him Bittle, or even Bitty. Hockey nickname. Most of us get them.”

“Well what’s yours, sweetheart?” she asked. This seemed like a safe topic of conversation. 

“My new teammates seem to be settling on Zimmboni,” he said, and Eric laughed in delight.

“Like a Zamboni?” Carol tipped her head, a little confused. 

Eric giggled. “Where are my manners! MooMaw, this is my college friend, my _best_ friend. Jack _Zimmermann_.”

“Oh!” Carol giggled a little now, herself. “Of course, Zimmboni! That’s adorable, son.” She reached over to pat Jack’s enormous hand. “So who are these new teammates? You aren’t at Samwell anymore?”

Eric beamed at Jack for a moment, and then beamed at Carol. “Jack went and got himself signed with the National Hockey League, MooMaw. He’s a professional hockey player now!”

“Well,” Carol paused, surprised. “I’ll be! Isn’t that something!”

“We’re all so excited for him!” Eric declared. He was still beaming at Jack, and a door in Carol’s brain unlocked. “The whole hockey team!” He started to explain, but Suzanne called him over to help her with something, leaving Jack to do it for him. And Jack tried, Lord help him, but goodness, that boy was uncomfortable. 

Luckily, Judy arrived with John and their two girls, and before they got settled David showed up with Jennifer and — land sakes! — their daughter. “Sheree!” Carol cried in delight. “Come over here and tell your MooMaw all about your new job with Co-Cola!”

She introduced Jack to Sheree and then let him escape.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

By the time Carol had caught up with the one granddaughter who was old enough to indulge her with a long stretch of attention, everyone else had arrived and everyone but Jillian’s baby had eaten at least one burger.

“I’ve taken enough of your time, my sweet girl,” Carol finally told Sheree as she squeezed and patted Sheree’s hand. “You should go chat with Eric’s college friend, Jack. He looks lonely over there.” She pointed toward the corner of the yard, where Jack stood with a beer, staring openly at Eric, who was twirling Jillian’s baby boy through the air to make little Nathan giggle.

Carol watched Sheree walk over and make a bit of small talk with Jack. Lord but that boy was tall, broad and handsome. And awkward. 

Carol found herself remembering her first visit to see Thomas in New York, after he finally finished his expensive architecture degree and got that job he was so proud of. He’d tried hard to keep his Mama from coming to see him, but she’d insisted, absolutely insisted, and hadn’t _she_ been surprised to meet Isaiah when she got out of the cab she’d taken from the airport. She still wasn’t sure, all these years later, whether Isaiah’s race or sex had been more shocking to her old-fashioned Southern sensibilities, but after an hour or two of those boys awkwardly trying to pretend that they were just roommates she’d finally figured it out and shut them right down.

“Nonsense,” she had said, matter of fact as ripping off a band-aid. “You think I’m too old to recognize love when I see it? You think I’m too conservative to be glad my son has finally found his place in this world, with someone who cares for him? Don’t insult your old Mama,” she’d demanded. “Tell me where you met this fine young lawyer.”

“Third year law student, really,” Thomas had reminded her, looking stunned, but he’d taken Isaiah’s hand and squeezed it, and Carol had forced herself to smile. 

And Isaiah had, indeed, been a fine man. She wiped a tear away, remembering the funeral. Somehow, praise Jesus, Thomas hadn’t gotten that terrifying disease. But Isaiah had already been infected when they’d met, and Thomas had been brave enough to love him anyway. Those protease inhibitor pills hadn’t been invented yet, and when they finally were available, it was too late for Isaiah. 

Carol had been the only one from their entire family to go up from Georgia for Isaiah’s funeral. Eric had been an infant, but Richard could probably have slipped away from his baby and his football team for a day and a half if he’d really wanted. Carol didn’t begrudge Suzanne. She needed to keep the peace at home with her husband and she hardly knew Thomas, anyway. But Judy and David… not to mention William. 

She took a deep drink of the last of her sweet tea to cover her snort. Lordy she _missed_ that man sometimes, but William had not been an easy husband to love every single day, and when she had returned from her first visit to Thomas and Isaiah in New York and told William that their eldest son was in love with another man…. It had not gone well. He’d never even known that Isaiah was black. He hadn’t been willing to visit, or have them visit, so why tell him? It was already hard enough to convince him that they were not going to disown their oldest child.

But Eric, Carol suddenly realized, might not know any of this family history. Who would have told him? Somehow Carol never had. The rest of the family acted like Thomas didn’t exist anymore, which made not talking about Thomas so much easier than talking about him. She put her empty glass down on the little table and frowned. She was such a coward. And it looked like Eric was the one who was paying for it. 

Feeling the creaks in her joints before she even made a move to stand, Carol looked for Eric. He was heading into the house. It was past time to talk to him. By a couple of years, looked like.

She stood, slowly, sighing a bit. She should get down to the Y and swim a couple more days a week. It would probably help. Trying not to shuffle too obviously, Carol slipped back into Richard’s cool, clean house. Eric was pulling more sweet tea and lemonade out of the fridge. Carol sat at the table and he smiled enormously when he saw her there. “Need some air conditioning, MooMaw? It’s gotten awful humid out there.”

“It’s over 90,” she agreed. “I checked the weather report on my fancy new phone app thingamajig.”

He grinned at her, clearly thinking she was cute. Fine, she’d take it. 

“That Jack of yours,” she said, while he still had his face turned toward her. “He’s a fine boy, Eric.”

Carol saw the tiniest trace of panic flit through her sunshine boy’s eyes. He could have hidden it from anyone but her. Well, her or Suzanne. How that boy loves his mother. Much like her Thomas did, before she let him get away from her.

“Did you know you have an uncle in New York City?” she asked, deliberately changing the subject, though less than Eric would know. 

“Um, Uncle Thomas?” Eric looked a little confused.

“That’s right,” she said, encouraged. “He’s an architect. You’re not too far from there, during the school year. You should look him up, send him an email or make a phone call.”

“Um, Samwell isn’t really all that close to New York City, MooMaw,” he said slowly. 

“Just a few hours on a train, right?” Carol tried. She wasn't actually sure of this, but it seemed like a reasonable guess. “That’s not too bad, if you’re going to spend the weekend.”

Eric’s adorable face twisted, just the slightest bit before he smoothed it out again and smiled -- so fake, and that’s when Carol was certain. He spent every free weekend with Jack, didn’t he? And he can’t tell her yet, because he doesn’t know how she will react. She has to let him know he can tell her.

“I’m sure your Uncle Thomas would love to meet Jack,” she said, hoping she wasn’t laying it on too thick. Indeed, Eric’s eyebrow rose slightly. His smile was still as false as a three dollar bill. 

Carol reached for Eric’s hand, but Suzanne popped into the kitchen and frowned at him, joking but serious. “Dicky,” she said, hands on hips. “I need you out here to organize that game you said you would play with all the little cousins.”

“Of course, Mama,” he said, bright as a penny, as he almost always was, and Carol let him go without so much as a sigh. He wasn’t going back to Massachusetts until next month. She had time.

She saw the way that handsome young boy looked at her sweet Eric, but it didn’t matter if Jack was Eric’s forever or just Eric’s right now. Eric was like his Uncle Thomas, and he was never going to bring home a sweet young thing in a dress and a swinging ponytail. Carol hummed a bit, under her breath, “Can she bake a cherry pie, Billy boy, Billy boy?” Then she giggled. Eric’s cherry pie was already the best in the county. What did he need with a sweet young girl?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Carol sits in her tiny Ford, air conditioning not really doing much yet, and knows she should drive home. But instead she pulls out her cell phone and dials a number she hasn’t called for a little too long. He picks up after only three rings.

“Mom! Happy 4th of July!”

“Thomas! Baby boy, how is my oldest today?”

“I’m good, Mom. We’re having a cookout on the roof, got a lot of friends over. I shouldn’t stay on the phone too long, but it’s good to hear your voice.”

“You can call me, too,” she chides him gently. “But I wanted to ask you a favor, son. It’s about your nephew, Eric.”

Fin. 


End file.
